


Kilos and Coffees

by IronShiba (wegglebots)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Korrasami - Freeform, powerlifting, the gang is into powerlifting I promise I'll explain the sport a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-10-03 11:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wegglebots/pseuds/IronShiba
Summary: There's just something about the new girl that Korra hates - the way she gingerly sips her coffee, the intense focus in her eyes as she goes for a heavy lift, how she smiles and laughs at Korra's stupid jokes. The feelings bubbling up in Korra's chest are new and uncomfortable and Korra's absolutely convinced it means she hates the beautiful and perfect Asami Sato. Right?_____AU in which the gang are all powerlifters but also work at a local coffee shop. Asami is the new girl who moves in. Korra attempts, clumsily, to navigate new emotions and crush her new "rival." Also Asami doesn't seem to have received the memo that the two are rivals.(I promise prior knowledge of the sport powerlifting isn't necessary. I'll try to explain things to the best of my abilities. uwu)





	1. 1. Kilos and Coffees

**Author's Note:**

> After a long hiatus, here's a new multi-chap fic. I hope you all enjoy. :)

                The story begins like this – a woman, leaning against the countertop, all tanned skin and taut muscles, short brown hair draped over her face as she sighs deeply. On the wooden counter, an assortment of coffee-making equipment and paraphernalia. The smell of roasted coffee beans permeates the entire café. It’s mostly silent save for the low chatter of customers and the occasional whirring and hissing of machines. The woman’s blue apron is tied hastily behind her back.  On her chest, a name tag reading “Korra.”

                “You’ve been sighing for over an hour now, do you plan on talking about it so you can get to work or are you gonna keep sulking into next week?” A tall man with sharp eyes and pointy eyebrows says, as he continues to work silently and quickly. His red apron is tied around his waist tightly and securely.

                Korra sighs again. “Gee thanks for being a supportive friend, Mako.”

                Mako nimbly prepares an espresso for a waiting customer. Korra continues to stare sadly at the wood grain of the countertop.

                “Well _gee_ Korra, I guess I forgot that we’re _still working a shift_ right now, my bad.”

                Just then, the kitchen door swings open, a stocky man carrying a plate of steaming pasta walking through. His green apron is messy, his nametag reading “Bolin.”

                “Korra’s just mad she almost lost last weekend,” he says, balancing the plate on the palm of his hand as he navigates around the other two. With a courteous smile he serves the customer and saunters back to the counter to serve the rest of the coffees to the customers. When he finishes he leans on the countertop opposite the two.

                “Almost lost? Is this about the powerlifting meet?” Mako asks.

                “Yeah,” says Bolin, “a new girl competed in Korra’s weight class and came really close to beating her total.”

                “Shit, really?” asks Mako, incredulous, “How close?”

                “Just ten kilos away close,” Bolin answers, humming.

                Korra buries her face into her hands, growling.

______________

                When Korra isn’t busy attending any of her college classes, blatantly ignoring her schoolwork, or working a shift at the café, she’s at the gym, working out and training to do what she thinks she does best. Powerlifting. The sport of lifting heavy objects in three main lifts – the squat, the bench press, and the deadlift. If there’s anything Korra knows about herself, it’s this – she’s fucking strong.

                The powerlifting meet was Korra’s opportunity to shine. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. There she was, clad in her signature blue and black singlet, hands caked with lifting chalk and her eyes burning with resolution. The gym where the competition was held was packed to the brim. Her team, the Fire Ferrets, was favoured to win. Her teammate Bolin was there to be her handler and chief supporter. The room buzzed with energy, filled with shouts and cheers and the occasional clatter of metal against metal, the ground trembling with every drop of the weight.

                Things were going well. Korra’s warm-ups were going smoothly and she felt like she was on the path to setting a new personal record for herself. Everything was going perfectly. Until, that is, the new girl walked in.

                Korra could recall with vivid detail the exact moment the new girl entered the gym. An almost hush washed over the gym as she stepped in, all silky long hair tied into a ponytail and elegant curves and pale skin. At first, Korra ignored the woman – dismissed her as the girlfriend of one of the other competitors. The dismissal quickly melted away into alarm as Bolin informs Korra, almost excitedly, that they were going to attempt to squat almost the same weight.

                Korra gaped, almost angrily, as she daintily stepped onto the platform, a look of pure calm and focus settling on the new girl’s features as she set up to squat. Korra watched as the woman – who Korra thought was the type to stick to ellipticals and butt exercises – squatted the weight, the heavily loaded barbell secure across her back. The crowd broke into a cheer, and the woman smiled brightly and cheerfully left the platform. Korra squinted angrily.

                “That was a good lift for Asami Sato!” the announcer boomed.

                “Asami Sato,” Korra repeated, letting the taste of the new girl’s name roll on her tongue.

                “Woah, the new girl’s got game!” Bolin cheered. Korra glared at Asami as she received high fives from some of the other competitors.

                “Look at her Bolin,” she sneered, “look at her all smiley and pretty and strong. What an asshole.”

                “Huh?” asks Bolin, confused.

                “She has the audacity to be all beautiful and lift that weight? _Asami Sato_ , huh. Well I’ll show that beautiful fuck whose boss around these parts,” Korra seethed, watching Asami as she took a few sips from a water jug.

                “Korra, are you okay?”

_____________

                “Wait,” Mako interrupts as Bolin tells the story, “Korra _won,_ right?”

                “Well yeah,” says Bolin.

                “So what’s the problem here, exactly?” asks Mako.

                “The problem,” Korra starts, a strange, uncomfortable feeling rising in her chest, “is that Miss Hot New Girl thinks she can walk in and attempt to steal my thunder!”

                “But…” says Mako, who pinches the bridge of his nose, “… you won.”

                “Well yeah but she was all smiles and giggles and ‘oh hi everyone I’m so hot tee hee!’” mocks Korra, waving her arms around animatedly. Mako looks to Bolin for further explanation, but he shrugs.

                “Something about the new girl just gets a rise outta Korra, I guess,” says Bolin.

                And of course, as if right on cue, the café’s door swings open. The three look to the door, and as Mako greets the customer, Bolin and Korra gape with astonishment. There, at the doorway, is the new girl. Asami Sato.


	2. The New Girl

                Rays of radiant light enter the café as Asami Sato steps through the open doorway. Bolin audibly gasps. Korra’s eyes draw into narrow slits, an angry scowl plastered on her face. Oblivious to it all, Asami flips her hair with a fluid and elegant motion. Korra could almost swear that it had happened in slow motion, strands of silky jet-black hair flowing through the air like real life had momentarily turned into a hair commercial. Something bubbles in the pit of Korra’s stomach. Churning and jittery, a feeling that threatens to rise up and burst out of her chest. She’s convinced its anger. She adds it to a mental list – Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 1. Slow-mo hair flips.

                Asami glides – yes, glides, Korra thinks, toward the counter. Korra muses, Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 2. Glides like a fucking angel. Asami looks toward the trio, as they stare soundlessly at her as she leans on the counter. She smiles, softly, red-painted lips drawn into an almost sultry smile. Up close Korra notices, for the first time, that her eyes are a piercing emerald green. Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 3. Red, red lips and green, green eyes.

                “What do you want?” Korra growls.

                Mako elbows her, hard, in the side. Korra lets out a muffled grunt.

                “What my colleague means,” he corrects, “is ‘welcome to Kilos and Coffees, what can I get you today?’”

                Asami looks confused, but she doesn’t let it faze her. She quickly scans around the café, taking in the rustic, simple décor. Bolin slides closer to Asami, resting his elbows on the table.

                “You were there at the powerlifting meet last weekend!” he beams.

                “Oh yeah,” she says, and looking toward Korra, “you were incredibly strong. I was no match for you, congratulations!”

                “Yeah sure,” Korra answers, still glaring. Mako clears his throat.

                “What my colleague means,” he says, “is ‘thank you, you were really strong too. Congratulations!’”

                At this, Asami giggles. It isn’t high-pitched or annoying, Korra thinks, it sounds more like the sound angels would probably make when they’re tickled. The room seems a bit brighter, almost blinding. The uncomfortable feeling in Korra’s stomach grows. There’s a buzzing in the back of her head, an almost numbness settling on the tips of her fingers. Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 4. Angelic laughter.

                “You have to forgive Korra,” says Bolin, “she’s just intimidated by you.”

                “I am not _intimidated_ ,” Korra barks.

                “It’s okay Korra, it happens to the best of us,” Bolin answers.

                Asami looks confused, lost, eyebrows raised and emerald green eyes wide. Korra growls, unable to look the new girl in the eyes.

                “Okay you two,” Mako sternly says, “off to the kitchen. Tenzin’s gonna be furious if he finds out we’re picking fights with the customers.”

                Bolin shrugs and grabs Korra by the wrist, slowly dragging her back into the kitchen. Korra drags her heels, shouting “She started it!” before the two disappear behind the swinging door. Korra, eyes still fixed on the new girl, saw as the woman positively winked at her between the rhythmic swings of the sturdy door.

                “Did you fucking see that?” Korra snarls, when the two are hidden away in the messy kitchen.

                “See what?” asks Bolin.

                “She fucking winked at me!”

                “She did? I didn’t see it.”

                “She did!”

                Shrugging, Bolin heads toward the door, pushing it open ever so slightly. With a sliver of a crack, he peeks as Asami and Mako talk cheerfully to one another.

                Bolin whistles low. “I know I said the new girl’s got game before, but wow she’s really _got game_.”

                Korra moves to peek through the door too. She watches as Asami and Mako banter, Asami throwing her head back with wild laughter at one of Mako’s inane jokes. Korra growls.

                Bolin tilts his head to look at Korra, smug. “Aww, are you jealous she’s all flirty with your ex?”

                “I am not _jealous_ ,” she says angrily, “she’s just so… _ugh_.”

                “Whatever you say, Miss Jealous,” Bolin teases.

                Korra shoves Bolin, and he trips forward, spilling out of the door. Asami and Mako freeze mid-conversation, staring as Korra huffs and Bolin attempts to stand up. Mako pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning.

                With an apologetic smile, Asami leaves the counter to sit on one of the far seats of the café. Mako gets to work and brews up her order as Korra marches up to him, stepping over Bolin as he struggles, apron caught in the corner of the door.

                “What was that about?” Korra asks Mako as he steams some milk.

                “I could ask you the same thing,” he answers, the milk hissing and steam wafting up from within the aluminium cup.

                “Something about the new girl just has Korra all weird,” Bolin says, now standing and smoothing out his apron.

                “I figured,” says Mako, pouring the contents of the cup into a ceramic mug, “that’s why you’re gonna make nice and serve Asami her coffee.”

                Korra groans, shoulders slumped. “Do I have to,” she whines.

                “Yes. You do,” Mako asserts.

                “Do I _reaaallyy_?”

                “Yes. Now get on with it before I tell Coach Lin to make you do heavy squat volume tomorrow,” says Mako, shoving the steaming cup of coffee into Korra’s hands. She shudders. The thought of Coach Lin’s “punishment training” has her hairs standing on end.

                Resigned, Korra sets off. She takes a deep breath, and walks toward Asami’s table. Asami seems engrossed in scrolling on her phone, setting it down when she notices Korra walking near. Korra sets down the mug on her table, a practiced, strained smile on her lips. Asami, friendly and open, extends her hand.

                “I’m sorry,” she says, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Asami, and I moved in nearby recently. It’s nice to meet you.”

                Reluctantly, Korra takes her hand. The contact feels almost electric, Korra thinks. The soft of Asami’s skin pressed gently against Korra’s rough, callused hand, warm and almost too jolting. Korra pulls back, she hopes not too quickly, warmth spreading through her body. Instinctively, she looks at the floor, struggling to come up with a response. Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 5. Hands are very soft and warm.

                “Nice to meet you too,” Korra mumbles, scratching the back of her head.

                “So, Mako tells me that you live on the second floor here?” she asks, as she takes a sip from the coffee. Korra is surprised to realize that they had been talking about her. She was almost certain that Asami was trying to get a date from the stiff Mako.

                “Sorry, I couldn’t help but ask about you,” says Asami sheepishly. Was she reading Korra’s mind? Panic begins to set in. Korra opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

                “I hope you don’t mind,” Asami says, smiling in that way that makes Korra’s stomach feel weird, “I was just a little curious about you.”

                Korra’s ears feel like they’re on fire. She’s almost certain she’s blushing, but she wills the feelings away. There’s no way that the new girl is flirting with her, she decides. Asami Sato is just messing with her, she tells herself.

                “I-it’s just…” Korra stammers, “Tenzin and Lin, who own the gym and this café know my dad and offered to let me stay here while I’m in uni.”

                Asami leans forward on the table. Was she batting her eyes at Korra? There’s no way, she decides. Her eyes are playing a cruel joke on her. That had to be the case. The rapid beating of her heart, the tingling all over her skin, they all had to be an illusion.

                “Same owners huh? Is that why the gym across the street is also called Kilos and Coffees?” she asks.

                “Mhm,” says Korra, struggling to even look Asami in the eyes.

                “Well, since I’m new here,” says Asami “would it be okay with you if we could, you know… like… train together sometime?” Was that a hint of vulnerability Korra was hearing in Asami’s voice? There’s no way, Korra thinks. She looks up, and sees, at the corner of her eye, Asami looking hopefully at her. It’s almost too much for Korra. A feeling blooms in her chest and she wants it to immediately die.

                “S-sure,” Korra manages to say, every inch of her feeling a little too alive. Asami breaks into a wide smile, brilliant and dazzling. Korra suddenly finds herself unable to look away. The feeling in her chest radiates, almost pulsing to the beat of her heart. Korra suddenly and desperately feels like she needs to run away and never come back.

                “Is tomorrow good?” Korra adds, feeling almost lightheaded.

                “Yes, of course! I’ll meet you here?” she cheerfully asks.

                “Um. Yeah, so, uh. I’ll leave you to your, uh. Coffee.” Korra says, turning away to get as far as possible from the new girl and all the feelings in her chest slowly driving her mad.

                “See you tomorrow!” Asami shouts back, and Korra thinks her voice sounds sweet, like pure liquid warmth flowing through her. Things I Hate about Asami Sato, 6. Too irresistibly flirty.


	3. Gym Buddies

Chapter 3: Gym Buddies

                That night, Korra finds herself lying awake in bed, watching as her ceiling fan spins lazily. Unconsciously, one of her hands rises up to her chest, draws lines along her clavicle. She wonders – what was that feeling? There was something to the new girl, to Asami Sato, that made her chest feel ten times larger than it is. A feeling, swelling and aching, pressing against her ribs and spreading into her every blood vessel. She isn’t sure, the thinks, or maybe she does and pretends to be unsure. Whatever it was, the very thought of Asami Sato seems to make her feel electric. Has she ever felt this way before? With Mako, maybe. It wasn’t quite the same. There was something _different_ to Asami that seemed to make the very light around her bend. Korra realizes that she’s making a dangerous comparison, and reasserts to herself, for the millionth time, that she hates the new girl to the very core.

                Korra screws her eyes shut. Wills her too-fast heart to calm down. Her mind races, so she forces herself to think of other things. She makes a mental note of what’s going to happen the next day – she’ll sleep through her alarm so Tenzin will have his daughter Jinora barge through her room to rouse her and together they’ll open the shop, and after a few hours she’ll come rushing out, late to her next class, and once she successfully endures all her classes, she’ll head on home, get ready for training, meet up with Asami –

                _Asami_. The name echoes in Korra’s mind. She can’t help it – she imagines Asami, meeting up with her, getting ready to go out with her, maybe on a date with her. Korra stops herself. No. No dates. Gym time only. Even then Korra was being generous, she thinks. She reminds herself, the new girl is bad news and the bane of her existence. Korra rolls onto her side. Presses her head deeper into her pillow in an attempt to find sleep faster.

                What would spending time with Asami be like? How hardcore is she about powerlifting? Would she enjoy training with Korra and the rest of the Fire Ferrets? Does she pull sumo or conventional? Is the rest of her body soft and warm like her hand? _No._ Korra rolls onto her stomach. Screams into her pillow. The thought of Asami – soft, sexy, beckoning Korra with a seductive smile – makes Korra’s stomach flip around. “Sleep,” she commands, her desperate plea muffled by her soft pillow. “Sleep now _please_.”

                The next day, Korra bolts awake the very moment her alarm sets off. She sits up, fully alert and wide awake. Just then Tenzin’s daughter opens the door, and freezes.

                “You’re… awake,” she says, eyes wide.

                “I’m awake,” answers Korra, just as dumbfounded as Jinora.

                “Wow,” says Jinora, “Bolin was right – the new girl’s got you all weird.”

                Korra scrambles up, standing upright atop her bed, the very mention of Asami making everything within Korra burst with energy.

                “Hm,” Jinora hums, “this is new. Well anyway, you know the drill. We’re opening up the café now.”

                From where she stands, Korra looks down at Jinora. Spreads her arms wide. She speaks, her voice deep and booming.

                “I fucking _hate_ the new girl Asami Sato.”

                Jinora rolls her eyes. “Sure you do, bud.”

______________

                Bolin leans toward Korra over lunch, showing her his phone. She, Bolin, and Mako are at the cramped university cafeteria, Korra busy cramming a week’s worth of work within the span of an hour. Frazzled, she struggles to focus on the image on Bolin’s phone.

                “Republic City Powerlifting Open,” reads Korra, eyes quickly scanning the details of the upcoming powerlifting meet. To be held at Kilos and Coffees, in about a month. Open to all weight classes, raw powerlifting only. On the poster, an image of Lin Beifong standing tall and proud, a barbell secure in her hands.

                “You gonna join?” asks Bolin.

                Korra’s mind is far away, trying to come up with more and more elaborate ways to discuss psychoanalysis and consume 1000 more words worth of essay. Her fingers are a flurry, clacking furiously on the keys while her eyes dart around the computer screen with wild desperation.

                “Bolin, quit bothering her right now,” Mako says in between bites of his sandwich.

                “Oh sorry,” says Bolin, “I was just wondering if Korra’s worried with Asami Sato and all that.”

                Korra’s fingers freeze, her brain screeching to a rapid halt. She stares blankly at her screen. Psychoanalysis? Freud? Where was the essay going? What are even words? What was that about Asami Sato?

                “Now look what you did,” scolds Mako, “now Korra’s gonna be all weird again.”

                Korra slams her laptop shut. “I’m not ‘all weird’ about this,” she declares.

                “Korra, keep at the essay unless you want Professor Kya lecturing your ears off again,” says Mako.

                Korra turns to Bolin, an ominous glare in her eyes. “Of course I’m joining, Bolin,” she says through gritted teeth. “If anything, just to prove that I’m not weird about the new girl at all.”

                “Okay cool,” says Bolin, nodding slowly.

                “So, the essay?” asks Mako.

                “Yes,” answers Korra, staring into the distance. “The essay.”

                Mako leans toward his brother. “See,” he says, “told you Korra was going to be all weird about it.” Bolin shrugs in response.

______________

                Korra returns to the café after a long scolding from Professor Kya for submitting a half-written essay only vaguely discussing psychoanalysis. Sitting in one of the corner tables, she taps her foot as she impatiently watches a wall clock tick away. The café is empty – Jinora working a solo shift and mostly cleaning some of the coffee machines. _Tick tock, tick tock_. Korra scowls at the clock. Five minutes to four. Four minutes and fifty nine seconds to four. Four minutes and fifty eight seconds to four. Four minutes and fifty se –

                “Korra you’re stressing me out, can’t you just wait for your date at the gym already,” says Jinora, slamming a to-go cup of coffee on the table.

                “ _Date?”_ chokes Korra, eyes wide.

                “Or whatever… this is,” answers Jinora, gesturing to Korra.

                Angrily, Korra takes the cup, takes long, large gulps of the coffee. It’s bitter, but also smooth, sweet. Like liquid caramel but still rich with deep flavour. Rant completely forgotten, Korra looks at the cup in awe. “Woah Jinora,” she says, “this is seriously good.”

                Jinora bows politely. “Tell my dad about it. He still doesn’t think I’m ready to take over.”

                “Tenzin’s just… _Tenzin_ ,” says Korra, shrugging.

                “And you’re ruining my vibe with your weird awkward energy so you should head on to the gym,” says Jinora as she heads back to her station behind the counter. Korra rolls her eyes, and looks at the clock. Exactly four in the afternoon. Grabbing her gym bag, she heads out, swinging the café door wide –

                And almost crashing into Asami Sato as she’s on her way in.

                “Oh, Korra!” she says, startled. “Almost bumped into you, sorry!” She says this with a giggle, and the corners of Korra’s mind goes fuzzy. They stand barely centimetres apart, and from this distance Korra catches a whiff of something sweet, like jasmines but with a little extra spice.

                Korra berates herself – _no sniffing the enemy, you idiot_. With a shake of her head she says, “It’s uh, no biggie. Let’s go?”

                They briskly cross the street, enter the similarly named Kilos and Coffees across the street. It’s true that Lin and Tenzin were business partners, but Korra always wished that they’d at least have the sense to name the two establishments differently. Like one could be Kilos and the other Coffees. Maybe it would be something for Jinora to do once she finally takes over the business.

                They enter the gym – inside its dim and the smell of sweat and steel hangs thick in the air. The sound of metal against metal reverberates throughout, loud over the distant thud of electronic music playing over a small speaker in one of the far corners. All kinds of gym equipment and barbells are scattered all throughout, some still shiny and others more rust than iron.

                “So this is the gym owned by Lin Beifong, daughter of _the_ Blind Bandit,” says Asami, holding up her phone to snap a few pictures.

                “Yup,” answers Korra, “the one and only, best deadlifter of all time.”

                Asami glides toward one of the barbell racks mounted on a nearby wall, each barbell hung up horizontally on the wall like a collection of battle-worn swords. She runs her hand against the rough knurling, smiling softly to herself. She turns, ever so slightly, toward Korra.

                “So,” she says, voice low and smooth, “are we gonna lift or what?”

                Korra’s heart leaps to her throat. She can’t help but grin widely, the buzzing in the back of her mind spreading all the way to the tips of her toes.

                “You know what?” she says, playfully. “How about you join the upcoming meet? I’d like to see how hard you can bring it.” She even winks, for good measure.

                For the first time since Korra’s met Asami, she seems flustered, blushing even. She gapes at Korra, mouth slightly open. It takes her a moment, but she regains her composure. Shock melting away into pure flirtatious energy, although Korra struggles to even begin to accept it.

                Asami winks back. “Thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, I'll start getting into the powerlifting a bit more. Hopefully I explain it well enough in a non-intimidating way


	4. Blue and Green

                The gym is Korra’s domain. Every nook, cranny, speck of chalk, iron, and rust more familiar to her than her own home. She moves with sureness. Fluidity. She finds an available rack – metal cages where gym goers train most lifts with barbells. She sets the rack to her height. Grabs a barbell and sets on the rack’s hooks. She loads weight plates on each side of the barbell. They slide, with ease – _shwoo, clack –_ the metal plates clattering against one another. Korra doesn’t even seem to think, her body going through the motions as if she’s done that exact thing a million times before.

                Asami can’t help but watch on in awe. Watch as Korra – all ferocity and intense focus – gets under the barbell and easily secures it across her upper back. Asami watches, leaning on a neighboring rack as Korra takes a few steps backwards. As Korra inhales deeply, and braces her core. Asami could almost see, under the thin cloth of Korra’s white tank top – tense rippling muscles flexed under the weight. Korra squats down, slowly, with control. Asami watches as Korra hits depth, her legs going deeper than parallel. Korra squats back up, powerfully, explosively. Asami just watches as Korra squats a few more reps, her own workout momentarily forgotten.

                Asami wasn’t sure what to expect when she moved into the neighborhood. There was a lot that she wanted to run away from. A lot that she wanted to forget. She wanted to be a regular student like everyone else her age. _Regular. Normal._ Whatever that meant. Asami wasn’t sure. She moved in and hoped that at the very least she could try to fit in. She even competed in a local meet in an attempt to prove herself somehow. A statement of some kind. Proof that she’s capable. That she’s not weak. That she’s just like everyone else.

                She continues to watch Korra squat away, grunting and sweat dripping down her forehead. The rest of the world doesn’t seem to exist for Korra anymore. It was almost entrancing, Asami thought. It was the same thing she’d seen when she saw Korra for the first time – brown skin, defined muscles, and this intense, _powerful_ gaze. Asami doesn’t know why, but that day, when she had seen Korra on the platform, her stomach flipped. Her blood seemed to bubble with electricity. Everything seemed to draw her attention toward Korra and those blue, blue eyes.

                Asami wanted to know why. At least, that’s what she told herself. She’s just curious about the woman with the blue eyes, that’s all. Just wanted to know what got her feeling all weird. Curiosity. That’s it. That’s definitely it. Asami stares, watching as Korra squats, mentally tracing lines across her legs. Are they firm? Asami bets her skin is soft. Her eyes slowly trace the curve of Korra’s lower back. Maybe Korra’s good in bed. Wait. No. Bad thought, Asami thinks. She commands her eyes to look away. She just blinks.

                A hand suddenly wraps around Asami’s shoulders, snapping her out of her trance.

                “Now I don’t know what going to the gym is like where you’re from Asami, but ogling girls is _just rude_.”

                Asami, startled, looks up to find Bolin grinning at her. He winks, as if to say “ _gotcha_.” Asami blushes a furious shade of red. He holds up a finger to his lips, snickering to himself, as if to say “ _I won’t tell_.”

                Korra finishes her set, and she re-racks the bar. The weights rattle as they move. Asami looks to Korra and sees her wipe the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. As Korra raises her arm, the top of her shirt rises, ever so slightly, revealing ripped abs. Korra breathes deeply, chest rising and falling. Asami swallows. Hard. What was she trying to do again?

                “What’s this, Miss Sato? I thought you were going to do deadlifts.” Korra teases, huffing. “Throwing in the towel after you find out what you’re up against?”

                Asami wills herself to focus. Think about the least sexy thing, she tells herself. Math. Numbers. 69. Nice. Wait, _no_. Asami blinks a few more times. She’s supposed to be good at this. Instead she stares awkwardly back at Korra, who seems to be waiting for some kind of response.

                Bolin throws his head back roaring with laughter, his arm still around Asami’s shoulder. She rocks back and forth as tremors shake through Bolin’s large body.

                “This is _great_ ,” he says, breathless. Korra stares at him, dumbfounded. Asami wishes she could just instantly melt into nothingness.

                “What’s great?” Korra asks.

                “I’m just so happy for you guys,” Bolin says, arm pulling away from Asami and wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.

                “Huh?” goes Korra, eyes wide.

                “ _Nothing_ ,” says Bolin, hands up in defense. He looks at Asami from the corner of his eye. Grinning. _Knowingly_. This is it, Asami thinks, she’s just moved in and she’s already ruined her life.

                Korra continues to gawk, looking between Asami and Bolin. Asami looks away.

                “Anyway,” says Bolin, “I remembered I have other things I need to do right now and therefore cannot train right now.”

                “You just… got here,” says Korra.

                “I know. But now… I gotta go,” answers Bolin, turning to leave. “Don’t have too much fun now.” He winks once more at Asami, and she feels her cheeks go a thousand times warmer. Korra squints. Shrugs.

                “Weird. But okay for reals tho Asami are you going to start deadlifting or what?” says Korra.

                “Uh. Yeah. Lemme just. Yes. Deadlifts.” Asami blinks a few more times.

                “Are you… okay?”

                “… Yes.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “… I’m sorry.”

                “For what?” Korra cocks her head to the side.

                “… Nothing. Deadlifts,” answers Asami, looking at the ground.

                “Right.”

______________

                It takes Asami mentally reciting all the mathematical theorems she knows to get her to stop thinking about the little sliver of Korra’s abs that she had just seen. She sets up a barbell on the ground, and gets ready for deadlifts. She slides her feet under the bar, finding that sweet spot in her wide stance. The soles of her shoes grip the gym’s flooring. She drives her heels into place. She reaches down, hands warm against the cold steel. She grips the barbell. She breathes in deep and braces. She pulls on the barbell, the weight tugging on her arms. Her muscles strain against the weight, and the bar steadily rises. Up her shins, past her knees. She keeps pulling, the bar going up and up.

                Asami makes the mistake of looking at Korra. She sees Korra, smiling at her with this lopsided grin. Korra whistles low. Asami’s brain can’t handle it. There’s a burst of fire in the pit of her stomach. Her knees buckle. Her legs go weak. Asami stumbles backward, losing her stance. She catches herself, the barbell falling to the ground with a clatter. Korra maintains eye contact.

                “So you lift sumo, huh? Personally, I’m a conventional lifter. That part where you lost it wasn’t as cool though.” Korra chuckles. Asami’s mind goes a little fuzzy. Just a weird, off day, she tells herself.

                “I had to hold back, in case you got too impressed,” says Asami. 5/10 save, she tells herself.

                “Sure,” answers Korra, stepping forward. She gets right behind Asami. “Lemme see your deadlift stance again.”

                Asami does her best to push away all other thoughts. Act cool. Don’t be fucking weird. She gets into position. She wraps her hands around the knurling of the barbell. Korra steps in closer. Asami could swear she feels the warmth coming from Korra’s body. She tenses up even more.

                “Lower your hips a bit more,” says Korra, “push out your knees.”

                “Like this?” asks Asami. She could feel it – Korra’s breath on the back of her neck. It was driving her nuts. Asami thinks of more theorems.

                “More like… this,” says Korra, and as she does so, Asami feels the firm press of Korra’s hand against the small of Asami’s back. It feels electric, Asami thinks. Just a little more, she realizes, a little more and she’s just going to combust on the spot.

                As if the current torture wasn’t enough, Korra slides a hand across Asami’s thigh, trying to get her to push her knees out. The skin is warm against Asami’s. Calloused and rough, sliding against her smooth skin. It feels like fire, tracing down her thigh.

                Asami’s mind goes blank. She gasps.

                Korra’s hand freezes. Pulls away immediately.

                “Oh god I’m so sorry,” says Korra, jumping away.

                “It’s okay I’m sorry too I was just shocked,” says Asami, turning to face Korra.

                They stare at each other for what feels like forever, both blushing deep shades of crimson. Blue stares at Green. Neither move. Electric music continues to throb over a distant speaker. They hear someone cough.

                Mako, standing at the gym’s entryway. “Uh. I just realized I need to go. _Now_ ,” he says, stiffly, and turns to immediately leave.

                As if on auto-pilot, Korra numbly marches toward the gym’s dumbbell rack, and silently does bicep curls. Asami buries her face into her hands. She prays for the spirits to just take her where she stands.

________________

                After minutes of bicep curling, Korra returns to the middle of the gym where Asami still stands.

                “Okay,” says Korra, “let’s just. Redo. Everything.” She extends a hand. Asami looks down at it. She tries her hardest not to think about the warmth against her skin. The firmness of her touch.

                “Uh,” goes Korra, closing her hand into a fist instead, “how about we uh… fist bump.”

                Asami goes and awkwardly fist bumps Korra. They awkwardly smile at each other. It’s too much, Asami decides. She tries to crunch away at numbers in her head. Tries to pull away. She can’t. Something about the dark flush of Korra’s skin, those blue, _blue_ eyes just piercing her. Fuck curiosity, she thinks. Fuck just fitting in. Asami was a smart girl – but her instincts were just driving her wild. Asami Sato wasn’t about to just let the moment pass.

                She grabs onto Korra’s wrist, tugs her forward. With her other hand she slides it behind Korra’s neck. She feels the slickness of sweat against her fingertips, wild, wild warmth surging on Korra’s skin. Asami pulls, closer, closer.

                And Asami Sato pulls Korra into a searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the gym scenes are kind of clear ^_^;


	5. Redo

                Asami Sato was raised to be the epitome of the perfect child. Smart, elegant, charismatic, a woman of high upbringing yet still one unafraid to get her hands dirty. Her father had molded her into the perfect heir for Future Industries. She was trained as a mechanic, engineer, and as a figure of high society. Asami Sato was prepared to walk in her father Hiroshi Sato’s steps. She was determined. Unwavering. Sure of the path that she was born and set upon from the moment she took her very first breath.

                That was, until it all fell apart. It was a blur – one that Asami doesn’t like to dwell too much on. First, the trials. Hiroshi Sato was arrested. She sat there amongst the many spectators in the courtroom. Lawyers filed in. The judge levied out his sentence, each charge punctuated with the heavy bang of the gavel. Fraud. Money laundering. Treason. It was blatantly shocking to Asami. She wondered – was she to inherit her father’s crimes too? She watched as her father – the once great Hiroshi Sato – was shuffled out of the courtroom like nothing more than a common criminal.

                Asami stuck to her studies. Stuck to her work. What else was there to do? Mope? Cry? It was a luxury someone like her could not afford. Ironic, she thought, all the privilege in the world yet she could not find it within herself to sit down and be sorry for herself. In the daytime she was in the office, scribbling away at documents, typing away at a computer. In the nighttime she was in the workshop, elbows deep in grease and grime and oil. She preferred that time. There was something to handling machines. To handling metals and iron.

                Then came the news. Asami, working as hard as ever – “ _what else was there to do?”_ – when she received the call. Her father had died in prison. A stroke. What was the feeling that overcame her? Sadness? Numbness? Asami had no words for the feelings. All the education in the world, but Asami knew little of what she felt. Feelings were an indulgence. She was the perfect child. There was no room for feelings in the perfect child.

                But then, when the voice came through the static of the phone, Asami felt the whole world go blank. The phone fell out of her hands. Clattered on the tiled floor. She looked out her office window, out at the large expanse of the city. Her chest seemed to tighten, ribs squeezing against her flesh, against her lungs, against her too-fast heart. What was everything for? To what end had she worked? Her father was dead.

                When was the last time Asami cried? She recalls, somberly, that it was her mother’s funeral. She was a small child then. Fat tears streamed down her cheeks, one after the other. She sobbed. Screamed. The tears still came. Her father had knelt down beside her, held up a handkerchief.

                “From now on Asami, I need you to be strong,” he had said. “And being strong means you’ll stop crying.”

                But her father was dead now. Asami clenched her hands into tight fists. Tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes. She was not going to cry. She was going to be strong.

                After the funeral the board gathered and decided that the company was to fall upon Asami’s shoulders. Asami was capable. Hardworking. She was the _heir_. Asami signed all the important documents. The scratch of pen against paper echoed hollow in her ears.

                Work. Study. Sleep. Work. Study. Sleep. So came the endless cycle. Asami would stare out, out at the city beyond her office window. A sea of city lights beyond her reach. It was not her world. She belonged to Future Industries. She belonged to her destiny.

                It was by pure accident that Asami had discovered powerlifting. She had a meeting in an expo hall of one of countless hotels she’d already been in. Walking through the halls of the hotel, heels clacking against marbled floor, she heard, in the distance. The rattling of weights. The tremor as they fell to the ground. The shouting. The cheering.

                She was curious, that’s all. She told herself she was going to look and nothing more. She handed her file to her secretary, beckoned her to head on to the meeting without her. Asami walked toward the expo hall, toward the growing noise.

                There, she saw, on the platform – Korra.

_______________

                Asami had given into instinct. She had planned to go to the gym and workout with Korra. Just to satiate her curiosity, once and for all. It was a storm that led her here, right in the middle of the gym, arms wrapped tightly around Korra’s muscular body as she kissed the woman.

                Korra’s lips were soft. Asami felt something intense bubbling at the pit of her stomach. Like fire, blooming and raging. Her chest seemed to expand. Her legs seemed to go weak. She held on tighter to Korra.

                Was Korra kissing back? Asami felt it – strong arms snaking around her waist, pulling her even closer still. Their bodies were so close. Korra seemed to radiate a warmth that made Asami just want to melt in Korra’s arms.

                In an instant it was over. Asami’s mind kicked back into high gear. _What the fuck are you doing?_ Asami pulls away. Pushes out of Korra’s embrace.

                Korra gapes at her with wide-open blue eyes. She’s breathless. Asami is breathless too. Every inch of her seems to burn with intense heat. Asami wanted more, but at the same time she wanted to run away and never be found ever again.

                “I-I… o-oh god… I’m… I’m s-s-sorry,” Asami manages to stutter. She looks at the gym floor.

                Korra doesn’t answer. Panic begins to set in. Asami looks up. Korra stands there, awkwardly, arms still up. Her mouth opens and closes, without sound. Like a fish out of water.

                Asami can’t help it. She giggles.

                Korra gapes at Asami, but it seems enough to snap her out of her stupor. Korra shakes her head. Runs both hands through her short hair.

                “WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?” says Korra.

                What was that about? Asami thinks about it. She wasn’t sure. One minute, she’s asking Korra to workout with her at the gym, the next, she’s actively trying to suck Korra’s face off. The realization hits Asami like a train. She buries her face into her hands.

                “I don’t know,” she says, muffled.

                “You _DON’T KNOW_?” answers Korra.

                “I’m sorry.”

                “I mean… it… wasn’t… uh… bad?”

                Asami looks at Korra again. She’s blushing a deep shade of crimson. Seeing Asami look up at her, Korra nervously scratches the back of her neck.

                “I… wasn’t… opposed to it?”

                “That’s… good.”

                “I just… want to know where you know… where that was coming from.”

                “It just… happened.”

                “Ok… cool. Yeah. It just… _happened_.”

                They stare wordlessly at each other. Neither making the next move. Were they going to start making out again? Go back to working out like nothing happened? Asami finally breaks the silence.

                “How about… we redo again?” she asks, her voice small and meek.

                “Redo?”

                “Yeah. This time I won’t kiss you. Promise.”

                “… Okay.”

                Hesitantly, Asami reaches out with an open hand. Korra does the same. They shake on it. Korra’s skin feels warm against Asami’s. Don’t think about that, she tells herself. Focus. No sexy thoughts.

                “I’m Asami, and I recently moved in.”

                “I’m Korra, and I didn’t recently move in.”

                Asami laughs. Korra joins her. The feeling is bubbly. She feels soft, like light settling on her very bones. Like she was buzzing with electricity. Asami wasn’t sure what she’d call that feeling, but she liked it.

                “Okay,” says Korra, “forget the workout for now. Let’s uh… let’s go for a walk to… you know… _calm down_.”

                Asami smiles slyly. She feels her usual confidence slowly seeping back in. She liked seeing Korra like this. She wasn’t sure why, but in a way, she wanted more.

                “How come,” Asami purrs, “a little too _hot_ for you?”

                Asami sees Korra tense up. Blushes an even deeper shade of red. Her face contorts into an awkward, scrunched up expression.

                “I ah eh ah you ah,” she mumbles. Asami winks.

                Korra blinks a few times. Shakes her head again, more vigorously.

                “Okay now you’re just fucking with me,” she says, sticking a tongue out at Asami.

                Asami giggles. “I couldn’t help it. You were being so cute.”

                Korra looks away. “ _Okay I’m going on a walk now you can either follow or flirt with the barbells for all I care_.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suddenly, angst. lmao
> 
> Back to regularly scheduled humor/fluff next chap hehe


End file.
